


can't wait for my time to come

by wwanderingproxy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Casteism/Hemophobia (referenced), F/M, M/M, Mentioned violence, Pale Porn, bloodswap, not actual porn, specifically tyrian!karkat violet!nepeta and mutant!gamzee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-06 03:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13402584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wwanderingproxy/pseuds/wwanderingproxy
Summary: Your name is Karkat Peixes and you are a downright incredible failure.





	can't wait for my time to come

**Author's Note:**

> "equius is my favorite troll" i tell myself, writing two karkat fics in a row
> 
> i technically have another chapter planned for this but like... whatever. it's complete for now.

Your name is Karkat Peixes and you are a downright incredible failure.

Of course, the actual failure is trapped within so many layers of fake-casteism and weird mutant(?) interventions that you can’t even tell your goddamn mutant moirail.

You will anyways, though. You’ll tell him once you get back to your hive, because holy shit.

“...Karkat?” 

Nepeta’s voice jolts your head out of the stack of documents it’s buried in. “Yeah?”

She glides over to your side, her weird insistence on staying out of the water making her clumsy. Her arm fits neatly into yours and nuzzles the crook of your neck for a moment, a very red gesture. Another fake. Another mockery. You’re so sick of it. “You’re distracted,” she says, voice dropping so your royal guards won’t hear of the emperors shortcoming. “Mew alright?”

“Great,” you hiss irritably. Before she can call your bullshit, you turn to the violet-blood so close to purple it looks like he’s having trouble breathing so deep. “Can I get a copy of these?”

“Which... one?”

“Uh-” you say, stupidly, stupid stupid stupid, emperors don’t stutter- You hold out the ones in your arms. “Just these, for now.” You resist the ridiculous urge to say please. You have been the emperor since before your second sweep. You could have literally anyone in this block killed. You could have anyone in this _ocean_ killed. There is absolutely no reason for you to say please, ever, in your whole life.

“Yes, your majesty,” he says, shoulders stiff. You dump the papers onto his arms and he says, “Thank you,” and you stand for a second, confused. Why is he not leaving?

Oh wait, fuck-- “Dismissed.” He nods and leaves.

Nepeta purrs a little bit, then makes a face. Purring doesn’t work very well underwater. “Not used to being in charge?” she guesses.

You let her believe it, sighing and nodding. “You’d think I would be by now.”

She murmurs a decently flushed comfort and presses a kiss to your fin. Usually you’re not this affectionate, not anymore, not in a long time, but you’re in public. You have to play it up. You turn and embrace her softly, sharing a kiss just chaste enough for your youth, but deep enough to satisfy any onlookers (which is just creepy enough to make you want to toss yourself out a ganderpane all over again).

...You can’t believe you managed to fuck everything up already.

You can’t believe you let him do this. You can’t believe you loved him. He was practically your fucking lusus.

Every-- Every last bit of work your ancestor did. Gone.

Gone.

You could’ve fought for a better future for your friends. For Kanaya. For Gamzee.

In the binder is a list of records, from a sweep after His Imperial Rennovation’s death to a sweep and a half ago, pertaining to hemospectrum enforcement. In the binder is documents signed by his pen, the troll you held so dear. Each and every one.

In the binder is a condemnation of half your friends to worse lives than they would’ve lived before HIR came into power.

Nepeta doesn’t pull you out of your own mind this time, just leading you. It’s a tour of the bits of your palace you haven’t already seen, since you’re getting to be of age. It’s every bit as boring as you expected, which is why you brought Nepeta along, to make spice things up. 

(as you pass a loose gandepane you fall momentarily into memories of your younger self- you and nepeta at four sweeps in the light of day, shielded by miles water as you took out panes to break in here and explore, telling each other tales of when you would be a proper emperor and nepeta your second in command and being clumsily flushed. you wish you could pity her like that still.)

You pull Nepeta a little bit closer as your vision tints fuchsia, desperately trying to hide your weakness from your guards and advisers. There’s no tealbloods, which placates your ridiculous fear of assassination a little bit, but weakness is still something you can’t afford to show. Especially if you want to get anything done.

On record, you don’t have a moirail, so it’s not too weird when Nepeta wipes your eyes and squishes your cheeks a little- practiced and fake papping. Gamzee is a possessive motherfucker (he’s calmed down since you were six but you can’t help but see violet blood streaming from nepeta’s face- billowing and voluminous in the water as she collapses at your hivestep- every time your quadrants blur). “Sorry,” you force out, barely audible in a pathetic attempt to hide it from the guards.

“Why would it efur be a problem?” she says kindly, not expecting an answer. You kind of want to give one, but you don’t dare. 

The tour is both agonizingly long and over in a blink, and you’ve almost forgotten you requested copies of the documents when the purple-violet guy hands you a pink binder. He looks nervous, like you might scream at him for touching a color higher than his own, and it kind of reminds you of Equius. Your bloodpusher hurts. Fuck, you-- You have to leave. You can’t do this anymore.

“I’m going on land,” you proclaim, in the most authoritative voice you can muster. You hate yourself for how steady it is. “You’re all dismissed.”

They dissipate, leaving you and Nepeta floating together alone. She untangles herself from your side as they leave, and you tilt your head up towards the surface. “Going to see Gamzee?”

She doesn’t bother to hide her distaste. They’ve never gotten along, and that was before he beat her half to death.

“Mhm,” you manage. “..It’s still day.”

“I have suncoats near my hive,” she offers, and you nod wordlessly, beginning the swim together.

You take your (water-proof, of course) husktop out and shoot a quick message.

carnivorousGoverner [CG] began trolling tyrannicalCullbait [TC]

CG: I’M COMING OVER  
TC: in the middle of the day, brother?  
CG: YEAH  
CG: NEPETA HAS SUNCOATS  
CG: I HAVE SHIT TO TELL YOU  
CG: <>  
TC: ooh  
TC: yeah alright  
TC: <>  
TC: see you soon  
CG: BYE

carnivorousGoverner [CG] gave up trolling tyrannicalCullbait [TC]

When you look up, Nepeta has stalled to look back at you. “Reely, did something happen back there?”

“..A little bit,” you admit. She looks at you expectantly, though you both resume swimming side by side. “..I don’t want to talk about it.”

“No?”

“It. It takes a lot of explaining.” Stop tearing up you useless fuck.

“Well, we’re practically stuck together forever y’know.” She twitches her fins, as if to prove her point about long lifespans. Then, she drops her voice to be more serious, tail brushing the back of your shoulders to make you look over at her. “Seriously, I just want to know whats wrong.”

Something about it makes you so- angry. “Don’t get all pale on me,” you snap, and she frowns. She’s already drawing back, but the words come out before you can stop them.

“You know what happened last time.”

She visibly flinches. Before the words are even out of your mouth, you wince hard and groan at your own stupidity. You’re a terrible matesprit, even for a fake.

“I’m- Nepeta--”

She pauses to look at you, then turns and swims forwards. “It’s fine, Karkat,” she says quietly.

“No, it’s not, I’m an asshole and I’m sor--”

“Karkat,” she cuts you off. “Shut up. It’s fine.”

You shut your mouth so fast your teeth click.

The rest of your swim is spent in silence. When you get to the shallow pools about her hive (somehow she’s used to being in shallow water mid-day, but you hover anxiously in the deep. the amused look she gives you as she swims up makes everything feel alright, for a second), she fetches a suncoat for you, and you step out onto the land and shake yourself off.

Usually she’ll laugh and muss your horrifically spiky hair, but you’re an idiot, so all she does is give you a little wave and a, “No problem,” when you thank her.

God you’re so fucking stupid. A disgrace of a tyrian.

\--

When you arrive at the lowblood lawnring Gamzee lives in, you’ve either shed or covered everything in your color. It doesn’t do well for being suspicious for the emperor himself to show up at some lowblood’s hive, after all.

He answers the door looking predictably tired (why did you insist on coming to see him in the middle of the day, you know he needs his rest you dumb fuck). You stare into each others eyes for a moment, and then you fall into his chest.

“Alllright then,” he drawls with a sigh, pulling you into his hive and shutting the door.

Your pile is always laid out in one of the more abandoned blocks; Being a young emperor is a lot of stress, and well.. Gamzee is an angry troll. It’s gray and drab, to keep you both in anonymity, but underneath you have a couple of choice objects. Fuchsia shirts you’ve left, snatches of red cloth. Just a little, but just enough. He pulls you into it and you instinctively curl up on him. (you’re not a small troll, really, gamzee is just freakishly huge.)

“Are you gonna spill?” he asks, hands weaving into your hair and stroking. Your tongue darts out, slides across your lips. You nod your head.

“Gimme a second,” you say, taking breath to collect yourself, cringing at the way your voice skips octaves. Gamzee just sighs softly and keeps running his fingers through your hair until you can get your shit together enough to sit up. Pink tints your vision but you tilt your head back and blink them away, thrusting the binder you brought into his arms. “Read,” you instruct.

He opens it after giving you a short look, pulling you back into his chest. You can feel down to the moment when he begins to process what’s written, when he stiffens and his fingers tighten on the back of your neck and you- you choke on a sob, shoulders shaking as silently as you can manage. 

Unfortunately, that’s not very silent. He curls his fingers into the back of your shirt (bright green, turned inside out- if anyone saw you with it on they’d just assume you’re a flamboyant jade or olive), and gently brings you back. Thick drops of tears are pooled in your eyes, trickling down in a slow, steady rhythm, and it’s all you can do to keep from ugly crying all over the place.

He places a palm ever so gently against your cheek and you collapse. 

Hiccuping sobs force their way out of your throat and you know you’re over reacting, you know this is going to end almost certainly a million times worse for him, and you know that you can fix this, eventually, hopefully, but--

But it’s. Too much. The betrayal, the pressure, the fact that you’re the goddamned emperor and you still can’t do jack shit since you’re not full grown.

Gamzee shooshes you and strokes your cheek quietly, holding you in close. One hand slides up, into your hair, onto the base of one horn, and as his fingers dig into the scalp, thoughts melt away from you. A shivering, half-sobbing mess of a troll is left in his lap, and he keeps at it. Murmuring comforts dripping in pale for such an angry, volatile troll, papping you into a gooey submission until your sobs slow into a deep breathing. Slumped into his chest, the irregularities slowly fade out of your breath, and the tension out of your chest.

“You good now?” he asks, ever so gently. You make a little ‘mhm,’ noise, fighting the pale daze he’s put you in just enough to respond.

Every time this happens you underestimate just how much you melt, because you try to push yourself up and your arms are so jelly you just collapse back into him.

He laughs, but it’s hollow. “I’m sorry,” you say quietly, but his thumb is still stroking little circles on the side of your face, the thrumming of his bloodpusher is practically in sync with yours, and it’s hard to feel anything but blissed out.

“Don’t be sorry, little brother,” he says. “Who did it?”

“You’re assuming it’s not me?” you say, because you are apparently, at your very core, just as self-sabotaging as Eridan. 

Luckily your moirail is far too used to you to take your bait. “Why would you be comin’ all up here in a fuss if it was?”

You hum, because he has a point. “Would it be weird if I said I didn’t.. know his name?”

“A little.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says simply. “Go on?”

“He.. I... He told me to call him the Signless. He--” it dawns on you, suddenly. It’s hazy and distant- you can’t quite hold onto it, but it kicks adrenaline into your body, and you- you--

Gamzee picks up on your alarm and moves to pap you back down but you fight to sit up properly and push his hands away. “No,” you breathe thinly, slamming your eyes shut. “I can’t- I can’t think. Give me a second.” He waits patiently as you get your shit together. God you love him. 

The pieces are important but they don’t click together for a second until you open your eyes and get a good sight of Gamzee again, and suddenly- “He was a mutant. Is a mutant.”

Gamzee blinks at you a second, and then goes almost comically wide-eyed. “Like..?” 

“Yeah. Like.” You pause a beat. “Oh god how did I not see it before? It all makes sense now, he even- fucking- he--” Words jumble up in your mouth and your hands try to take their place, gesturing wildly. Gamzee plucks them out of the air and holds them down in your lap. “God, he even fucking looks like you,” you say miserably.

He pulls you wordlessly forward again, hovering one hand above your horns in silent askance. You nod into his chest, but continue anyway.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him.” His nails dig into your hornbed. “I don’t care what kind of hemoloyal prick I have to pretend to be to do it. I’m the goddamn emperor. I’m gonna kill him, and then I’m gonna reverse all of it.” A shivering warm runs through your cool body. “How could he do that? How could he do that to his own ancestor? I, I mean, I guess he’s your ancestor?” Everything is fuzzy and distant. “How could he do that to- to everyone? Doesn’t- don’t you feel a sense of, like, kinship or whatever with lowbloods? Isn’t that a thing? How could he just--” 

You trail off, realizing you stopped making intelligent sounds about halfway through your speech. It was probably for the better anyway. Huffing (or, trying to), you settle into his chest and give yourself over to the pap.

\--

At some point, both of you fall asleep on the pile. It’s a fairly common ending, given that despite how well your moiralligence works, you’re both too awkward to just.. step out of pale space. It’s easier to just wake up, even with the nightmares.

Of course, you fell asleep like, noon, so you wake up at midnight, bloodpusher on overdrive to save you from some imagined threat. Fuck, you wish seadwellers could just, like, observe normal sleep patterns. Yeah daylight doesn’t matter because you’re so far down, but it’s really gonna start fucking you up.

You stretch and pull yourself wearily out of the pile, gills straining uncomfortably. Little known fact: The same uncomfortable and unquenchable parched mouth feeling you get when you wake up sometimes? It happens to gills too. You bitch about this particular travesty under your breath as you stumble into the mealblock, contemplating just shoving your head into the sink to breathe some water. Since you do have some modicum of self control, you don’t, instead opting to down a singular glass of water and ground grubflakes, even if it’s the shitty store brand Gamzee always has. Absently you make a note to restock his entire house.

Time floats away from you as you shove shitty cereal down your face, and you only snap out of it when there’s a wretched cry from the other room. Instinctively, you fly out of your seat, and you only even process it when you’re in the doorway of the block you slept in. But then you see Gamzee, halfway upright on the pile, screaming unintelligibly at some invisible being, eyes wide but unseeing. As you drop down to comfort him, you catch sight of flecks of candy red in his eyes, making your bloodpusher skip a beat or six.

This is a routine you’re well prepared for, since falling asleep in a pile has one downside- horrific night terrors. You slide behind him, catching him in your arms (never in front; he’s been known to lash out in his sleep and if you ever get hurt its a whole ordeal involving hours of questioning and at least one innocent troll culled). He barely notices, and you just hold him still so he doesn’t do anything stupid like try to jump out a window. Though he thrashes, eventually he stills, and even the intermittent screams fade, leaving him panting but otherwise calm.

You peer around his shoulder to see if he’s woken up, and sure enough, he looks over at you confused. “Oh,” he says as soon as he realizes it’s your arms he’s in. Then he flops backwards onto you, chest still heaving with leftover adrenaline.

“Get off me you fucking lump,” you snarl, writhing under his ridiculously huge body. He snickers from above you. Asshole. You wriggle to get some leverage and brace your hands under his shoulders, flipping him off you and onto the floor. 

“Rude,” he chastises, turning onto his side to catch his breath and grin over at you. Then, his face drops into seriousness. “Uh, sorry about that.”

“If it bothered me, I wouldn’t be here,” you retort for the millionth time, rolling your shoulders absently as you stand up. “There’s grubflakes in the kitchen.” 

With that, you wander back to the kitchen, plopping yourself back down into the chair. A minute later Gamzee follows, and you offer the box to him.

Together you eat, mostly in silence. The pink moon is high in the sky, but the green moon is just rising, the light filtering through the ganderplane and casting a light green hue over everything. You kind of want to stay here forever- silent evening meals and passing out in piles sounds so much better than everything you have to deal with back at your own hive. But of course, you have a ‘duty’ or whatever. Ugh.

“You goin?” asks Gamzee over a spoonful.

“I should,” you grumble. “..After I eat.”

\--

After you eat turns out to be three hours, at least two wrestling matches, and talking shit about your annoying guards, before you finally realize that _oh shit the green moon is all the way up_ and you snatch your suncoat and say your goodbyes.

Heading back to the ocean is the more difficult part (fucking landdwellers), but once you get to the ocean you take a detour. 

You have to apologize to your matesprit, after all.

...Fuck, you hate how downhill your relationship has gone. The two of you used to be close- like, serendipity close. Actual, honest to Gl'bgolyb serendipity. You were so flushed it was disgusting, sappy and affectionate and so, so, pitiful.

It was only later that the two of you realized the political advantages to having the biggest Rennovationist paired up with the biggest Imperialist (well at least, the biggest pretend-imperialist). And it was only later that the pity faded out of your relationship.

Not that you weren’t on good terms, no; the two of you kept faking it for politics, so you still had to be close, but just not.. flushed. Instead of curling up to watch shitty romcoms (your very secret guilty pleasure) or even shitter animes (her not-so-secret one), you bonded by sneaking off to corners of stupid highblood balls and talking shit, or hunting lusii for Gl’by, when you let her.

As Nepeta’s hive comes into view, and a large, white corpse with it, you mentally correct the line about letting her. Nepeta has a tendency to do whatever the fuck she wants. 

The lusus she killed is a sort of winged dog- one of those really annoying micro-species’ your bioterrorism schoolfeeding quizzes require you to memorize even though you never do. 

Regarding it for a second, you quickly move on to Nepeta’s door, hesitating for a ridiculous few seconds before finally knocking. Almost a minute later, her face pops up behind the violet-stained glass, door sliding open.

“Hey Katfish,” she says, drowsy. Seadweller shit means you both were up all day, but, probably unlike her, you actually got to sleep. At least she doesn’t seem pissed at you.

“Hey, Nepeta,” you reply, rolling your eyes at the nickname. “Just wanted to check in and return this.” Unraveling the suncoat from over your shoulder, you hold it out to her. “Did you sleep at all?”

Taking it back, there is a moments hesitation. Then, with the barest smile, “Careful not to get too pale there, Karkat.” It’s so blasé that you have to hold back a physical flinch. Even so, she hardly notices your dismay and continues, “Nah, I was up talking to Equius. I’ll purr-obably head off now though.”

“Christ, Nepeta.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Fine, whatever. At least you’re sleeping now.”

“Careful,” she repeats, leaning on the doorframe, the joking warmth from the first time gone. There is an unspoken _you know what happened last time hanging in the air_.

“Sor-” 

“The Canis Simurgh is for Gl’by, by the way. I’ll see you around?” She cut you off without so much as a second glance.

“Yeah, I-- Yeah. Thanks, I’ll... see you.”

And with that, she’s gone.

You sigh and turn around, inspecting the Simurgh laying on the ground. Hefting it onto your shoulders, you trudge towards the oceans, bracing yourself.

It’s a long swim home, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> i got all the formatting right on the first try im so proud


End file.
